


Neighbors - Sherlock x FtM!Reader

by Pic_Septiceye



Series: Sherlock x Male!Reader Oneshots [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Asexual Sherlock, Fanfiction, FtM!Reader Inserts, Gay Sherlock, I take requests - no smut, M/M, Male!Reader Inserts, Reader Insert, queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27754081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pic_Septiceye/pseuds/Pic_Septiceye
Summary: I haven't seen many Sherlock x Male!Reader stories on here, so I figured I'd write some!I take requests! I won't write smut, though. I'll write for any character, just let me know! You can be as specific or vague as you like!
Relationships: Greg Lestrade & FtM!Reader, Greg Lestrade & Male!Reader, Greg Lestrade & Reader, John Watson & FtM!Reader, John Watson & Male!Reader, John Watson & Reader, Mycroft Holmes & FtM!Reader, Mycroft Holmes & Male!Reader, Mycroft Holmes & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & FtM!Reader, Sherlock Holmes & Male!Reader, Sherlock Holmes & Reader
Series: Sherlock x Male!Reader Oneshots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030179
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	1. Strange Meetings

**Reader POV**

You sigh deeply as you set the last box on the floor, wiping the sweat from your brow. You looked around your new flat with a small smile. It was an amazing space; you could barely believe your rent was so cheap here in cozy little 221C Baker Street. After taking a quick drink of water you got to work unpacking. 

It didn't take long since you didn't have too much to begin with. You'd only brought the essentials, and planned to have the rest of your belongings mailed to you by a friend back home.

A loud crash rang out from above as you broke down the last of the boxes. You paused for a moment as someone yelled. 

"SHERLOCK! WHAT THE HELL?!" An agitated voice questioned. 

"BORED!" Another, more monotone, voice responded.

There was a long pause and you wondered if the two people were having an angry staring contest.

The landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had vaguely warned you about the upstairs neighbors, but you hadn't had a chance to meet them before moving in. After the little domestic they'd just had, you figured some homemade cookies would do them good, as well as give you an opportunity to introduce yourself.

With a decisive nod you tucked away the (now flat) boxes and walked to the bathroom to shower, thinking about what type of cookies you were going to make.

_How about chocolate chip? That's kinda basic...sugar? Not too hard to make, but a bit plain. Oh, wait! Gingerbread cookies! Yep, that's the one._

One quick scrub later, you stood in front of the mirror and admired your outfit. Black jeans and a graphic tee - absolutely perfect, in your opinion. You ran your fingers through your (h/l) (h/c) hair and smiled, heading out to the kitchen.

"Shit..." You muttered, realizing that your kitchen was void of anything edible, let alone cookie ingredients. "Right, new flat. Guess I'll have to go grocery shopping." 

As if on cue, there was a firm knock on your door. You opened it to see Mrs. Hudson with a oddly mischievous smile on her face.

"Hello dearie, have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet; I need to go shopping. Why do you ask?" You said as your stomach grumbled loudly. "Or maybe I'll order in." You chuckled.

"Oh, nonsense! I was just about to make dinner for the boys, why don't you join us?" 

"I wouldn't want to impose..." You said, not sure if it was okay that Mrs. Hudson was inviting you to someone else's flat. "Besides, I haven't had the chance to introduce myself yet."

"No time like the present!" She said, grabbing your arm and whisking you up the stairs.

"A-Are you sure this is okay?" You stuttered, confused by her behavior; Mrs. Hudson wasn't the pushy type.

"Of course! Besides, I think you and Sherlock will get along very well." She said with a wink. You blushed brightly as you reached the door to the other flat. 

_Oh my Gallifrey this sweet old lady is trying to set me up with someone-_

Your thoughts were cut short by Mrs. Hudson pulling you into the flat with her.

"Yoo-hoo! I'm here for dinner!" She said happily, letting go of you.

The room you were in had a warm, homey feeling to it. Looking around you saw a comfy-looking couch on the back wall and a desk littered with piles upon piles of papers between two windows overlooking the street below. Two armchairs stood in front of a fireplace - a black one to the right and a brown one on the left. Looking to the kitchen you saw...lab equipment?

"Who're you?"

Your eyes landed on a pale man with dark, curly hair and piercing blue eyes, looking at you with an emotionless expression.

"Oh, hi! I'm (Y/N), I just moved in downstairs."

"I invited him to dinner, Sherlock. Be nice." Mrs. Hudson warned softly as she passed him, patting his shoulder. 

The man, Sherlock, rolled his eyes and looked back down to the microscope in front of him. You shuffled awkwardly, watching Mrs. Hudson bustle around the kitchen. 

"You can sit, you know." Sherlock said without looking up. 

"Right, thanks." You walked over and sat across from Sherlock, giving him a quick once-over.

_He's not very polite; he barely noticed my presence. Must be tired; he's still in his pajamas. There's callouses on his left hand, obviously left by strings - plays an instrument. Violin, maybe?_

You were pulled from your thinking as a cup of tea was set in front of you.

"Thank you, Mrs. H."

"Of course. How does garlic chicken pasta sound?"

"That'd be amazing." You said with a smile, taking a drink of your tea. Somehow, it was just the way you liked it.

_Whoa, Mrs. H is a friggin' magician._

"Where's John? I thought he'd be joining us." Mrs. Hudson asked. 

"He went on another date." 

"Oh, good for him! I hope this one clicks." 

"Doubt it."

"Why do you say that?" You asked. "Were they rude or something?"

Sherlock sighed deeply, looking at you with annoyance.

"There was a slightly faded tan line of a ring on her left hand, she must've recently taken it off after wearing it for a long time, most likely a wedding band. So she's going through a divorce; but she had a chain around her neck, barely visible above her shirt. Now why would someone wear a necklace without showing it off? Sentiment - she kept the ring, meaning she stills cares for them and wants to get back together. It's possible they're taking a break, but doubtful since she's dating. And going by the state of her knees she's been sleeping around, hoping to make her former spouse jealous. Her and John won't last more than two dates." 

"Wow." You breathed, shamelessly staring at the man in front of you. "That's...that's bloody brilliant."

"I know." He said as a small smirk grew on his face.

His gaze lingered on you a moment more before he ducked his head to continue working with the microscope.

_I've never met someone like this...he has the same talent I do._

"You know Sherlock, (Y/N) here's starting his new job at Scotland Yard tomorrow. Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" Mrs. Hudson asked, winking at you over Sherlock's head. 

"Yea! I'll be head of the forensics team." You smiled brightly as you spoke, feeling quite proud. Sherlock's head shot up, his brow furrowed.

"You're replacing Anderson?"

"Yea, but he'll still be on the team from what I heard."

Sherlock grinned brightly and you felt your heart skip a beat. 

_Oh fuck he's cute_

"Lestrade finally decided to fire him. Took him long enough, I've been telling him to that for ages."

"What do you mean? Are you on the forensics team?" Sherlock scoffed and shook his head.

"No, I'm much too intelligent for a job like that." You bristled at his statement, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'm a consulting detective. Scotland Yard calls me when they need help - which is always." He finished smugly. You swallowed your indignance and strained a smile.

"So I suppose we'll be working together, then?"

"Most likely. Just try not to be too stupid and we should be fine." You looked at him incredulously, all thoughts of politeness flying out the window.

"Excuse you?" You said, seeing Mrs. Hudson put her face in her hand out of the corner of your eye. 

"What?" Sherlock asked. 

"I've been here for ten minutes and you've already insulted my intelligence twice." You seethed, crossing your arms.

"Did I? I hadn't noticed." He said casually, returning to his microscope. You stood and turned to Mrs. Hudson, who was now staring at Sherlock disapprovingly. 

"Sorry Mrs. H, but I'll be heading out now. Thank you for the tea." You said before turning your gaze back on Sherlock. "And I've got a bit of advice for you, since you were so eager to give me some. Next time you're bored, trying playing your violin instead of breaking things. Much less destructive."

You left the flat quickly, striding downstairs and out the door into the crisp London evening after grabbing your coat. 

_Who the hell does that guy think he is?_

You started walking, hoping that some fresh air would help you calm down. Before long you found yourself in a small park a few blocks away from Baker Street. You wandered for a bit, admiring the scenery until the sky had become properly dark, at which point you decided to go home.

_Sherlock thinks he's all high and mighty - how dare he insult me like that? And now we'll have to work together? Ugh._

A loud ring from a nearby phone booth wrenched you from your thoughts, making you jump.

"What the hell...?" You muttered, looking curiously at the booth. With a quick glance around you opened the door and stepped in, picking up the phone on its last ring. 

"Hello?" 

"Hello, Mr. (Y/L/N). Do you see the camera on the building to your left?"

"Yes." You watched in awe as the camera moved until it was no longer facing you. Then another camera ahead of you moved, as well as one behind you. "Who the hell are you?"

"Get in the car and find out." The snide voice said, the line dying after. A black car rolled up in front of the booth as you hung up the phone.

_Aw hell nah that's how people die nope no thanks_

You exited the booth and ignored the car, continuing your walk home instead. To your horror, the car began to follow you. The window closest to you rolled down, revealing a young woman. 

"Aren't you coming?" 

"Nope. Not today, Satan." You replied, picking up your pace. The car sped up as well, easily matching you. 

"Why not?" You sighed and stopped, turning to her. 

"Don't you realize how creepy this is? I don't know you! I don't even know who called me, or what they want!"

"If I tell you will you get in the car?" 

"Depends." You said, raising your eyebrow.

"The man on the phone was Mycroft Holmes. I'm his PA, Anthea. And he wants to talk to you about Sherlock." She said curtly, opening the car door and scooting over to make room for you.

"Am I supposed to know who this 'Mycroft' is?" 

"No, but you know Sherlock, don't you?" 

_What does he have to do with this? This Mycroft guy must know him. Wait - what was Sherlock's last name? I don't think he told me. But I have a sneaking suspicion it might be 'Holmes'. So they're related, or this guy's his enemy. It'll be interesting either way._

"Fine, alright, whatever." You huffed, getting in the car. The girl next to you smiled and began typing on her phone. The ride was painfully silent. Before long you pulled up to an abandoned warehouse.

"He's inside." Anthea said, still not looking up.

"Alright then." You sighed, getting out of the car. Just ahead you saw a man in a beige suit leaning on an umbrella. 

_He doesn't really look like Sherlock...kinda has an evil vibe. He's well-dressed, he must have a good job. CEO? Corporate executive?_

"Hello, Mr. (Y/L/N). I'm glad you decided to come." Mycroft greeted, his voice posh and condescending. You gave him another look,

_CEO's usually have security personnel, but it's only us two here, unless you count the driver and Anthea. His posture's relaxed; he's not nervous or scared, so he saw no need for security. Wait, that's not a normal umbrella; it's a sword - oh, and a gun. Only a government official could have a hidden weapon like that with a cocky attitude to boot._

"What does the government want with me?" You asked, standing with your arms crossed a few feet away. After all, this guy basically stalked you and brought you here - you couldn't trust him.

"Ah, I knew you were clever." He said with a smile that sent shivers down your spine, not that you showed it. "As you know, I wanted to speak with you about Sherlock Holmes." 

_Ha, I knew it! So they are related. Mycroft's too close to Sherlock's age to be the Dad or an uncle, so...brother?_

"What about him?"

"I'm prepared to give you a large sum of money every month in exchange for...information about him."

"You're offering me money to spy on Sherlock?" You grimaced. "Look dude, I might not like him that much, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna spy on him. That's really creepy." You stated, turning around and walking towards the car. 

"I'll be in touch if you change your mind!" Mycroft yelled. You ignored him and got in, asking the driver to take you home.


	2. Scotland Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N)'s first day of work has a rough start, and Sherlock gets a new case.

**TW: transphobia mention**

**Reader POV**

The beeping of your alarm was painfully loud as you awoke, groaning and slapping your phone until it stopped. You sat up and slowly got out of bed, padding down to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

_Ugh, I wish I could just stay in bed...I'm exhausted. I blame Sherlock; if he hadn't been rude I wouldn't have gone for a walk, and I wouldn't have gotten stalked by his brother and been out so late._

You sighed deeply as you got dressed after your shower. Your outfit consisted of a soft black button-up tucked into equally soft dress pants, and long socks with rubber duckies on them under black oxfords.

"Let's do this." You said as you grabbed your black, hooded leather jacket from the peg and headed outside. Luckily you were able to find a cab pretty quick.

"Scotland Yard, please." 

You arrived much too soon for your liking - you were still quite groggy. After handing the cabbie a few bills, you stepped out and marveled at the large building in front of you.

_I don't think I'll ever get used to this..._

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, determined to shake off the fatigue. With all the confidence you could muster, you walked in and went straight to Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade's office.

"Ah, (Y/N)! Good morning!" He said, giving you a big smile. You smiled back just as bright, feeling a bit of your nervousness fade.

"Good morning, Lestrade." He stood and motioned for you to follow, leading you to a nearby conference room. He paused at the door and turned back to you,

"You ready? I just want to introduce you to everyone, if that's alright." You faltered a bit, your nervousness returning ten-fold.

_So much for a calm morning._

"Um, yea! O-Of course!" You said, hoping your voice didn't waver too much. Lestrade gave you a reassuring smile before opening the door and walking in with you behind him. He stopped at the front of the room and turned to face everyone. You stood by his side, swallowing thickly as you noticed that every chair was filled, and there were even more people standing around the room.

_I hate crowds..._

"Alright, everybody. This is Dr. (Y/F/N), the new head of the forensics team. I expect you all to treat him with the respect he deserves." Lestrade said, stepping aside to allow you to speak. You looked out anxiously, taking a deep breath before beginning.

"Hello! I'm super excited to work with all of you! Please don't hesitate to talk to me, or ask any questions you might have!" You said cheerily before someone in the crowd shouted:

"Aren't you a girl?!" You couldn't tell who had asked, they were hidden in the very back of the room. A few people snickered at their question.

"Oi-!" Lestrade started, but you held up a hand to stop him. Your smile turned into a mischievous smirk, your tone taking on a sarcastic edge.

"Oh yes, right, I forgot! I just chose to identify with a repressed, marginalized community; keeps me humble. But you wouldn't know anything about humility, would you?" Your smirk grew as some of the crowd chuckled.

"But what's your sex???" The same person yelled.

"Oh gosh, shouldn't you take me out to dinner first?" You asked, putting a hand over your mouth in mock scandal as the crowd's giggles grew. An angry growl sounded from the back as a beat-cop pushed his way past people to stand in the middle of the room, pointing an accusatory finger towards you.

"What's in your pants?!" He asked, his face turning a bright shade of red as the crowd's laughter grew even more.

"Oh, um...my mobile, wallet, and keys." You replied, smiling innocently as you pulled out each item. The laughter in the room was uproarious at this point, and you struggled to maintain your poker face. Once Lestrade had regained his composure, he gestured to the beat-cop.

"You, in my office. I'll be there in a moment. As for everyone else, go on back to work." 

The joyful sounds faded as the crowd dispersed, leaving you, Lestrade, and a few stragglers.

"Sorry about that." Lestrade said as he turned to you. "I'll make sure he's dealt with properly."

"Thanks." You said, your smug smirk morphing to a sad smile.

"You alright?"

"I will be. Really, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course." Lestrade said, concern evident on his face as he awkwardly patted your shoulder.

"Right," He said, clearing his throat with a nod. "Um...would you like to see the lab?" 

"Yes please!" 

"I can show him." A nearby voice said. You looked over to see a shy girl with long, brown hair tied up in a ponytail wearing a white lab coat.

"Thanks, Molly." Lestrade said, walking towards the door. "I'll let you get going. And (Y/N), if you need anything, just let me know!" With one last smile, he was gone.

You turned to the girl - Molly - and held out your hand.

"I'm (Y/N), nice to meet you." Molly shook your hand with a small smile.

"Molly Hooper; I'm on your forensics team."

The two of you made idle chatter as you walked to the lab in the basement. You decided that you liked Molly quite a bit. She was a bit awkward, but clearly intelligent and kind.

"Here it is," She said, opening two wide double doors to reveal a beautiful state-of-the-art lab.

"Whoa..." You said breathlessly; Molly giggling at your reaction.

"It's pretty great, isn't it?" 

"It's awesome!"

**Sherlock POV**

"I need a case..." Sherlock whined, earning a glare from John.

"Patience is a virtue." John replied, continuing to read the morning paper.

"Patience is boring. Most everything's boring, actually." He said, standing from his chair and leaning over the desk. He looked around for a moment before noticing something...off. "John?"

"Yea, Sherlock?"

"Did you move my violin?" Sherlock asked, shuffling some papers around. "It was right here." 

"I think you put it in your room a couple days ago." John said, not looking up. Sherlock went to his bedroom to find that John was correct; his violin was sitting below a window, the music stand beside it. He walked back to the living room and sat in his chair, steepling his hands below his chin.

_How did (Y/N) know I played the violin if he didn't see the case or music stand? There's no way he could've known without seeing them. Mrs. Hudson must've mentioned it, then._

As if she read his mind, Mrs. Hudson carefully nudged the door open not a moment later.

"Yoo-hoo! I brought some tea and biscuits." She said, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

"Did you tell (Y/N) about my violin?"

"Not at all dearie, why do you ask?" Mrs. Hudson replied, handing the boys their cups. John abandoned his newspaper in favor of grabbing a biscuit.

"He mentioned it last night before leaving, but he couldn't have known that I play." 

"Who's this?" John asked, looking between Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock.

"(Y/N)'s renting the basement flat. I invited him here for dinner last night but Sherlock was incredibly rude, so he left before eating." Mrs. Hudson answered. "I thought you would've liked him, Sherlock."

"And why's that?" He asked vacantly, grabbing a biscuit.

"Well, he's quite smart. When he first came to tour the flat, he asked about my ex-husband, even though I hadn't said anything. I don't think he realized what he was saying because he blushed quite a bit when I told him the story."

"Lord help me, another Sherlock..." John said, shaking his head with a small grin.

"Interesting..." Sherlock said, leaning back in his chair and sipping his tea.

"Is it?" John asked suspiciously. Sherlock usually wasn't interested in people - unless they were criminals, of course.

Sherlock's phone went off before he could answer.

"YES!" He shouted, jumping excitedly and running over to the door, quickly pulling on his coat and scarf. "We've got a case!" 

"How do you know? You haven't even looked at your phone!" John said as he pulled on his jacket and followed Sherlock outside, shouting a goodbye to Mrs. Hudson on the way.

"Who else would text me? Mycroft calls and you're right here."

They stood in Lestrade's office not ten minutes later.

"Three victims, all found dead in their flats. There doesn't seem to be any connection between them." Lestrade explained, setting some photos on his desk.

"Not one that you can see." Sherlock said, scanning over the pictures.

_The first victim was a young woman in her twenties; petite, blonde, blue eyes. Cause of death was multiple stab wounds to the stomach. The second victim was a man in his forties; graying black hair, some muscle, brown eyes. Cause of death was a cut across the throat._

"And the third victim?"

"Just found 'em. Sent the forensics team and messaged you."

"Text me the address." Sherlock said, gathering up the case file. 

"Aren't you gonna ask who's on forensics?" Lestrade asked, his brow furrowed. "You usually do."

"Dr. (Y/L/N)'s on it, I know." 

"How-?"

"He moved into 221C." Sherlock said curtly, heading towards the door.

"Wait, our neighbor is the new head of forensics?" John asked, baffled.

"Yea, today's his first day." Lestrade answered, typing the address out on his phone. "Do try and be nice, Sherlock. He's already had a rough time today, I don't want it to get worse." 

"What happened?" John asked, seeing Sherlock stop out of the corner of his eye.

"Some arsehole asked him whether he's a boy or girl this morning after I introduced him at the morning meeting; I honestly didn't think anyone would notice that he's trans. (Y/N) handled it remarkably well, all things considered." 

"That's terrible." John said, frowning. "You sure he's okay?"

"Not really. He didn't wanna talk about it." Lestrade said, scratching his neck awkwardly. "Anyway, let's get going. Wanna ride?" He asked, leaving his office with the boys following. 

"We'll get a cab." Sherlock sighed, raising his arm as a taxi pulled up. "Really Geoffrey, you should know by now. I don't do police cars." He finished, sliding in and giving the address to the cabbie. John threw Lestrade an apologetic look before following.


	3. The Game is On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader catches Sherlock's interest as they look over a crime scene.

**Reader POV**

You took a deep breath, clearing your head before starting your examination of the scene; it wouldn't help anyone if you let your emotions get the better of you. While you loved your job, it was sometimes difficult keeping your empathy at bay.

_The door handle's broken - the locking mechanism looks like it was tampered with quite a while ago. Whoever did this had planned it._

You walked further into the apartment, continuing your search.

_The body's in front of the couch; seems a bit stale. She was attacked from behind based on the stab wounds covering her back like sprinkles. The TV's still on - she must've been relaxing when the killer snuck in and surprised her. This place is meticulously decorated...so why is there an awkward blank spot over there?_

Your gaze landed on the wall opposite the couch; eyebrows furrowed.

_There's nails sticking out - something was hung here. The killer must've taken whatever it was with them. Nothing's stuck to the nails, though; no stray fibers or anything. I have no idea what it could’ve been._

Peeking into the kitchen, you noticed something else odd.

_There's a knife missing from the stand. He used her own knife to kill her and grabbed a souvenir on the way out - but why?_

Walking back out to the living room you noticed Sherlock and another man walking through the front door, examining the handle as you had done not five minutes earlier. They looked up as you approached them.

_That must be Sherlock's flat mate - John, I believe. Even if Sherlock was rude, I should still be civil. We're at work, after all._

"Hello, Sherlock. And you must be John." You said professionally, smiling and holding out your hand. His grip was firm as he shook it, grinning brightly. "I'm Dr. (Y/F/N), head of forensics. It's nice to meet you."

"Mrs. Hudson mentioned that you'd moved in downstairs. It's great to meet you, too." John said, glancing around as Sherlock wandered off to examine the body. "So what've you found so far?"

"The victim is in their mid-seventies and has blue eyes - just like the first victim. She lived here alone, and judging by the lack of photos she didn't have much of a family. The door handles' lock was jammed some time ago, so the killer's been planning this for a while. The TV was left on and the body's not fresh - meaning that the victim was having a night in when she was attacked. The killer stabbed her repeatedly with a knife from the kitchen and took it with them when they left. And judging by the extensive décor, they also took whatever was hanging on the far wall. Nothing else was disturbed, so we can rule out robbery as a motive. Comparing this murder to the others, it seems like the killer wants their victims to suffer; but I'm not sure why." You finished, blushing slightly as you realized you'd been ranting.

"Mrs. Hudson was right..." John muttered, smiling fondly and looking over your shoulder. 

"Huh?" You asked, following his line of sight to see Sherlock staring at you intently a few feet away. He cleared his throat as you caught his gaze, snapping out of his trance and coming to stand by John.

_Was he...blushing?_

"It seems I may have...underestimated you, (Y/N). I'm sorry." Sherlock said stiffly, clasping his hands behind his back and refusing to meet your eyes. You felt your blush deepen,

"Thanks, Sherlock. All's forgiven." The faintest hint of a grin ghosted over Sherlock's face; leaving as fast as it had appeared. 

"What'd I miss?" Lestrade asked, walking over to your small group. 

_Heckin' heck when did he get here?_

"Ah, well-" You were cut off by Sherlock gently grabbing your arm and dragging you to the door.

"(Y/N)'s coming with me and John to the other crime scenes." Lestrade watched you get hauled off with a curious expression.

"Why am I going with? I mean, I'm happy to help, but...why me?" You asked as the three of you stepped outside.

"I need a second opinion, and yours might prove to be especially valuable." Sherlock answered, hailing a cab. 

"Then why am I here?" John asked.

"I'd be lost without my blogger."

"Blogger?" You asked as you all got into the taxi.

"I have a personal blog where I've typed up all the cases Sherlock and I have been on."

"I suppose the life of a consulting detective's rather exciting, then?"

"You have no idea." John answered with a chuckle as the cab pulled up to an expensive-looking apartment building. Sherlock practically leaped from the car once it'd stopped; you and John followed after paying the cabbie. 

"This is the first victim's apartment, yea?" You asked, following Sherlock up the stairs.

"Yep." He answered, heading to a door covered in police tape.

"I got it." You knelt in front of the door and grabbed the bobby pin fastened to your sleeve. You kept it there for moments like these. Less than a minute later the door popped open with a ‘click’. You smiled at the boys and noticed they were staring at you - one intrigued, the other bewildered. "What? It's a good skill to have."

The studio apartment was bare save for a couch, a TV, some boxes, and a bed. A tape outline of the body marked the floor in the middle of the room. 

"Just moved in." You noted, peering into an open box labeled ‘work’ while Sherlock studied the furniture and John looked at the outline.

"She'd only been here two days." Sherlock noted, moving from the couch to the bed. 

"Looks like she was a sex worker." You said, seeing the copious amount of risqué clothing in the box. "I want to say jealous client, but that doesn't account for the other two murders."

"She had a girlfriend." You looked up, seeing Sherlock holding a pillow from the bed as well as a picture. You walked over to him and smiled - the picture captured a beautiful moment of two women kissing under fairy lights.

Sherlock set down the photo and took out his phone, typing something quickly before going to the door. 

"We're leaving already?" John asked as the three of you headed back out to the street.

"We got all we needed." 

"Next crime scene, then?" You asked.

"Absolutely. The game is on!"


	4. Gay Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N), Sherlock, and John investigate the crime scene of the second victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's supported the fic thus far and everyone who'll support it in the future. Every note, like, kudos, bookmark, and comment gives me a TON of motivation to write!!! I hope you guys like this next part, and remember - I take requests for oneshots (or full stories, if you want)! I just won't write anything sexual.

**TW: violence, blood mention, knife mention**

**Reader POV**

The other flat building was much more worse-for-wear, all crumbling bricks and boarded-up windows. The alley beside it was full of moving shadows, murmuring to one another indistinctly.

"Quite the change of scenery, eh?" John asked as we walked in. The inside stunk of cigarette smoke and alcohol, making you gag a bit.

"Heh, yea...definitely..." You mumbled, your eyes darting around, looking for any signs of danger. You wrapped your arms around yourself protectively as you shifted from foot to foot unconsciously.

_This place gives me the creeps...and the homeless guy shamelessly eyeing me from the corner isn't helping_

"You alright?" You jumped at the question, having been lost in thought. Sherlock was looking down at you curiously, concern evident in his eyes.

"Oh, um...yea. I'll be fine." You tried your best to smile, but it turned into more of a half-grimace. "Let's just get this over with."  
Sherlock nodded, leading the way up the stairs with you behind him, and John behind you.

"Well that's lovely." John commented as you approached the door to the victim's flat. The police tape had been torn down, and the door was slightly ajar. Sherlock pushed it open slowly, but didn't get far before a junkie jumped at him from inside, sending them crashing to the ground.

You stumbled back as John grabbed his gun, pointing it at the attacker and trying to get a clear shot. Sherlock and the man were rolling around, each one struggling to gain the upper hand. Other residents were wandering over to the fight, either to watch or join - you weren't sure. 

"John, make sure no one else gets close. I'll help Sherlock." You said, swallowing your fear and leaping at the junkie, who had pulled out a knife and had it pointed at Sherlock's throat. You and the man went flying across the hall, nearly hitting some of the onlookers. Hooking your arm around his throat and wrapping your legs around his torso, you effectively trapped the crazed attacker. His arms failed wildly as Sherlock and John rushed over to help. You felt a stinging on your cheek as you watched Sherlock punch the man in the face, knocking him out.

John took the man from you, dragging him down the hall as you knelt and took deep, gasping breaths.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Sherlock cursed, kneeling in front of you and taking your arm in his. 

"I wasn't about to watch you get hurt." You winced, noticing the cuts covering your arms. "Better me than you."

_Shit, I forgot about the knife...he got me good_

Sherlock was silent as he examined the cuts; they weren't very deep, but they stung like hell, and there were a lot. Once he'd finished, he moved to your cheek, his hand cupping your jaw gently as he looked critically at the cut there, which was significantly deeper than the others. You felt your face heat up as you looked to Sherlock with wide eyes.

_Is he flirting with me? No, no, he's just worried; I can't assume. But oh my gosh he's being sO GENTLE I FEEL THE GAY PANIC-_

"We can patch you up back at Baker street." He said, standing and brushing off his clothes before offering you a hand. You took it gratefully, wobbling a bit as you stood - you weren't sure if it was the adrenaline or how flustered you felt, but you were very lightheaded. Sherlock must've noticed, because he didn't let go of your hand as he led you back out to the street.

"Does this happen often?" You asked with a smile as you realized the insanity of the situation. 

"All the time." You giggled.

"That's amazing."

"Amazing?"

"Well yea! Did you see how cool I was in there?! I kicked his arse!" You exclaimed, pumping your fist in the air. Sherlock chuckled, his eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't quite place.

"It was quite impressive."

"Right?!" The two of you laughed loudly as John exited the building.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" 

"Yea, but he got some good slices in." 

John carefully assessed your wounds while Sherlock hailed a cab. 

"I can treat these once we're home. The one on your cheek might take a bit longer to heal..." John trailed off, holding your face much like Sherlock had previously.

"Cab's here!" Sherlock announced much louder than necessary, clapping John on the shoulder, making him stumble a bit and let go of your cheek. He wasted no time in taking your hand and leading you to the taxi, holding the door open for you.

"Thanks..." You giggled softly at his obviously jealous behavior. He slid in beside you as John followed, muttering.

"That was rude, even for you."


	5. Ugh, feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tends to the reader's injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the long wait with this chapter. I recently started a new job, so I've been absolutely exhausted ^-^; but I appreciate all the support you've been giving me! I love you guys! <3

**TW: blood mention**

**Reader POV**

Sherlock ushered you into the flat the moment the cab stopped, leaving John to pay the bill. Normally you wouldn't have let him (or anyone else) guide you like that, but the days' events had left you exceptionally tired; even the short trip up the stairs to 221B was strenuous.

"Stay here, I'll be right back." Sherlock muttered, pushing you down into his chair before rushing off down the hallway.

You sighed deeply; your sore, aching body beginning to relax. 

_And to think he could barely stand me yesterday..._

A smirk crept its way onto your face as you thought over everything that had happened to you these past few days. Moving into your new flat, meeting the Holmes' brothers, meeting John, being whisked off by Sherlock...

_If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he likes me...wishful thinking, I suppose_

"Are you alright?" 

Jumping slightly, you realized that Sherlock had returned with a bowl of water, a rag, and a first aid kit.

"O-oh, yea, I'm fine. Sorry, just lost in thought." Sherlock chuckled under his breath; a small, genuine smile gracing his features.

_Does he_ seriously _not realize how cute he is??? ___

____

____

"I understand. Can you take off your shirt?" 

"Wh-what?" You squeaked, blushing furiously. Sherlock gave you an adorably puzzled look and gestured to your arms.

"The cuts were made through your shirt. You'll have to take it off so I can treat them properly." 

"Oh - right."

_Okay (Y/N), chill out. Just take off your shirt. No biggie._

Taking a deep breath, you reached up to undo the buttons on your shirt. You got about half way there before wincing, the fabric rubbing harshly against your cuts.

"Ah crap...that really hurts." You mumbled.

"May I?" Sherlock asked softly, glancing up at you before tentatively pulling your hands down. "I'll try not to aggravate your wounds." 

_Did he just-_

_Was that a- ___

____

____

_Is Sherlock flirting with me? ___

____

____

"U-um, sure. Thanks."

Sherlock slowly undid the buttons, glancing up at you every few seconds to make sure he wasn't making you uncomfortable. You kept your gaze fixed firmly on the skull adorning the mantle; trying desperately to occupy your mind with anything other than how gentle he was being.

"I filled in Mrs. Hudson, she was pretty worr-" John stopped in the doorway, looking to you, then Sherlock, then back at you. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" He asked, giving you a knowing smirk. You felt your blush deepen as you struggled to find something to say, opening and closing your mouth like a fish out of water. Luckily, Sherlock came to your rescue.

"No, nothing at all. (Y/N) couldn't take off his shirt because of his injuries, so I'm assisting him." He said monotonously, refusing to look up.

"Mhm, sure." John hummed, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter. "Well I'll leave you to it, I'm going upstairs."

Sherlock waited until John's bedroom door shut to finish unbuttoning your shirt, carefully guiding it off your body. He wasted no time in running the lukewarm rag down your arms, washing away the dried blood.

"Do you really believe it'd be better for you to get hurt instead of me?" Sherlock asked abruptly, the curls on his head bouncing slightly as he continued working.

"Well...yea. I mean, you're _the_ Sherlock Holmes; the best detective in the world. People need you."

Sherlock was quiet as he got out the gauze from the first aid kit, winding the material around your arm methodically. It wasn't until he brought the rag to your cheek, his touch impossibly soft, that he spoke again:

"Thank you, but please don't do that again." He whispered, almost inaudibly.

"A-alright...I won't." You whispered back.

Sherlock made quick work of bandaging your cheek and rose, going to the kitchen to put everything away.

_He's a completely different person when we’re alone...I'm surprised, but glad he trusts me_

"Sherlock?" 

"Yes?" He asked, walking back into the living room.

"Can I hug you?" 

Sherlock came to a stop just in front of John's chair, looking at you curiously. After a few moments he answered, his tone hesitant but sincere:

"Of course." 

You smiled as you stood, approaching Sherlock slowly in case he changed his mind. Once you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around his torso, sighing happily as he did the same.

"Why did you ask?" He said, your hair muffling his voice ever so slightly. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd be comfortable with hugging." You felt Sherlock's hold on you tighten.

"I only show certain people physical affection." 

"And...I'm one of them?" 

"Yes, it would seem so."

A tired smile made its way onto your face as you squeezed Sherlock the best you could with your injuries (which wasn't much, but it's the thought that counts). You both pulled away a second later, your faces a shade darker than before. 

"Well then, I best be off." You said, grabbing your shirt and heading to the door. "Thank you...for everything. I'll be back tomorrow morning to work on the case." Sherlock looked at you for a moment, his usually piercing gaze having softened; though you weren't quite sure why. He shook his head a bit before responding, as if dismissing a thought.

"Alright. Goodnight."

And with that, he turned on his heel and headed down the hallway. 

Your thoughts lingered on Sherlock as you made your way back to your flat and got changed for bed (minus the shirt, of course). You were asleep before your head hit the pillow.

**Sherlock POV**

Sherlock's thoughts raced even more than usual as he went over the events of the day, trying to make sense of his behavior.

_(Y/N) makes me...ugh, **f e e l** different than anyone else I've encountered. Perhaps it's friendship?_

_But it's not like John. John's my friend - well, my best friend. And I suppose I can consider Lestrade, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson my friends._

_But if it's not that, then what is it?_

_This feeling was strong enough to cause me to dramatically alter my behavior towards him. It was similar to when John had been taken by Moriarty - worry. I was worried about (Y/N). But there's something else, too._

_How can I have developed such strong emotions towards a person I've just met? It's completely illogical._

Sherlock huffed, frustratedly running his hands through his hair; making his curls stick out every which way. 

_Perhaps I should ask John. These feelings are distracting me from the case - I need to sort them out so I can focus._

With a decisive nod, Sherlock went to deprive his best friend of a good night's rest.


End file.
